


Monster

by mr_stark_i_dont_feel_so_good



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Gen, Read, but pls, i have no idea where it's going or what's going to happen, read my bullshit, what even is this fanfic idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15037757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_stark_i_dont_feel_so_good/pseuds/mr_stark_i_dont_feel_so_good
Summary: (Post Spider-Man, Pre Infinity War)After the whole fiasco with Liz's dad, the Vulture, at Homecoming, Peter Parker is paranoid that everybody knows he's Spider-Man and is out to hurt him. His English teacher, MJ, Delmar, even Ned's under suspicion.  In Monster, Peter must learn to trust again, wrangle being Spider-Man and Aunt May knowing, as well as complete his junior year at Midtown School of Science and Technology in one piece.---This is my first fanfic in, uh, a LONG time and my first fanfic on Ao3, so bear with me please and I hope you enjoy the story :) I also will post updates (if I'm not too lazy) on my tumblr: mr-stark-i-dont-feel-so-good





	1. Chapter One

Peter bit his lip nervously as he copied down the notes the english teacher, Mr. Winterhalter, was writing on the chalkboard. He tried to concentrate, but he couldn’t help himself - he knew English class was important in theory, but his mind just kept wandering. It was almost too easy these days - slipping into his mind, left back at the Avengers compound. He replayed when he stole Cap’s shield in his mind - the  _ coolest _ thing he had ever done in his life, by far - and all the other Avengers he had met. He thought back to and marveled at the suit that Mr. Stark had offered him when he’d asked him to be an Avenger. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. He fantasized about swinging from building to building in the suit, zapping criminals with spiderwebs and chatting with Karen. Or, even BETTER, fighting aliens in  _ space _ , the Avengers by his side. That was the dream. But he didn’t regret saying no to Mr. Stark’s offer - he knew that it was the best for him to focus small and on the local neighborhood. Not that he ever wanted a repeat of what had happened with Liz’s dad - he shuddered at the thought. He had done what he had to do to help Mr. Stark, but it had been so difficult to fight like that. He deserved a break, to focus on his schoolwork and education before he had another grand big taxing adventure like that one.

_ Education… Oh shit _ , Peter started, his eyes refocusing on the board. He was about two pages behind on notes and Mr. Winterhalter was heading his way. Peter frantically looked to the empty seat next to him - Ned wasn’t at school today, otherwise Peter was sure he would’ve helped Peter out and nudged him into paying attention much sooner. He frowned as he scribbled, trying to get as much down before Mr. Winterhalter got to him. Why  _ was  _ Ned gone? Usually if Ned was sick, he’d text Peter to let him know, but Peter hadn’t gotten a text that morning… or had he? Heart beating unreasonably fast, Peter reached down under his seat and grabbed his phone to quickly check.

Just then, it got taken from him. Peter looked up to see Mr. Winterhalter standing in front of him. “No phones in class,” Mr. Winterhalter said sternly, and peered over Peter’s shoulder to read over his notes. Peter felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment as Mr. Winterhalter sighed in disappointment and said, “Meet me after class, Parker.” Peter sat back in his seat. Great, he’s in trouble… again. Peter couldn’t seem to avoid it lately.

As soon as the bell rang to signify the end of class, Peter jumped up and headed out the door, but Mr. Winterhalter stopped him before he could leave and called him over to his desk.

Peter waited for the stream of people to leave the classroom before turning to Mr. Winterhalter, looking down at his feet. “Mr. Winterhalter, I’m sorry sir, I swear it won’t happen again. I got lost in thought, things have been crazy recently-”

“Peter-”

“I swear, I’ll do better. I’ll do all the readings, and - shit, I mean - I do all the readings already, I promise - ugh, pardon my language -”

“Peter!”

Peter paused, breathless and finally looked up to make eye contact with his teacher. Mr. Winterhalter was looking at him with a rather amused expression. He shook his head and chuckled. “I was going to give you a lecture,” he smiled, “but it seems you’ve already given yourself one.” He chuckled again, evidently amused with his joke. 

Peter laughed along nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“I- I guess I’ll just go then,” he said after a pause, reaching for his backpack. To his dismay, Mr. Winterhalter stopped him again.

“Wait, Peter, while I have you here there was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” Mr. Winterhalter said, rising from his seat and heading to the cabinet.   
“Mr. Winterhalter, I have to get to class,” Peter protested, but his teacher merely waved his hand dismissively.

“I’ll write you a note,” he replied, heading towards his desk with a folder in his hand. He motioned for Peter to sit and, reluctantly, Peter pulled up a chair from a neighbouring desk and sat. He suddenly felt a prick of a fear as he noted the seriousness in Mr. Winterhalter’s face. 

_‘He doesn’t know I’m Spider-Man, does he?’_ His heart beat faster, but to his immense relief Mr. Winterhalter merely pulled out a stapled sheet of paper and handed it to him.

“Do you recognize this?” Mr. Winterhalter asked. Peter looked down at the paper and suddenly his fear returned, ten times more intense. It was the news article assignment from a couple months ago. Peter had forgotten about it until the night before and, in a panic, took a picture of himself on a building dressed as Spider-Man and written an article about his most recent fight. He didn’t give it a second thought at the time, and now it was coming back to bite him.  _ ‘God, what was I thinking? Oh my god, he knows, what do I do?’  _ Peter tried to keep himself from freaking out, but reached toward his hand, getting his webshooters ready. “Mr. Winterhalter, I can explain-” he began, not sure where he was going with it, but Mr. Winterhalter stopped him.

“Let me finish my sentence, Parker,” he said sternly, and Peter gulped. However, Winterhalter’s face broke into a smile. “I have to say, I’m very impressed. It’s an excellent example of journalism.”

Peter gawked. This wasn’t the direction he had expected the conversation to go at all. “Really?” he squeaked.

“Of course. You really went above and beyond,” Winterhalter said. “You went out and managed to track down a local superhero, get an excellent photo of him, catch him in the act of stopping a car accident and saving many lives, and you provided exciting and crucial details that even professional journalists didn’t even have. Not to mention, your writing is superb and you follow the pyramid structure of an article perfectly.”

Peter sunk back in his chair, not understanding the terms Winterhalter was using but cheeks burning with pride just the same. “Thanks,” he muttered, pushing back his webshooters up his sleeve - he wouldn’t need them. He was slightly embarrassed at the praise, especially since he didn’t even work half as hard as Winterhalter evidently thought he did, but his relief for not being recognized as Spider-Man overpowered his feelings of guilt.

“I’m an English teacher, but I also have a lot of experience in journalism. Unfortunately, this school lacks a journalism program, and doesn’t even have a school newspaper anymore,” Winterhalter went on, and Peter sat up again, wondering where Winterhalter was going with this. “I guess, I was wondering…” he seemed almost nervous. “Peter, I was wondering, considering your evident skills, if you would like to help me revive the Midtown High Paper.”

Peter’s mouth fell open, not sure how to respond or what to think. He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, that sounds fun,” he said quickly, “but I’m really busy, and all, you know with my internship and Decathlon. I’ll - I’ll think about it though,” he added quickly at Mr. Winterhalter’s crestfallen face. “I’ll definitely think about it,” he repeated, standing up and grabbing his backpack. He really wanted to get to his next class, it was science and he wanted to increase the durability of his webshooters. He started off and then turned back quickly. “Err, can I have my note?”

Mr. Winterhalter grabbed a sticky note off his desk and scribbled out a note. “Please do think about it, Peter,” Winterhalter said as he handed him the note. “It won’t be much of a commitment, and I think you’ll do wonderfully.” 

“I will,” Peter promised, before quickly hurrying off to his science class.

 

\---

 

Peter wasn’t sure at what moment MJ had begun to sit with him and Ned at their table during lunch. Maybe it had been after MJ and Peter started to get to know each other better through Decathlon. Maybe it was after MJ and Ned had bonded over their favorite doctor from Doctor Who (theirs was the ninth - Peter, of course, knew that 10th, David Tennant, was superior). In any case, now MJ was a consistent part of lunchtime and today, as usual, it was full of banter.

“Ecclestone is the best. He’s the original, you can’t beat him,” Ned argued, sipping on apple juice. 

Peter scoffed. “By that logic, the first doctor is Hartnell, from the old series.”

“Nobody cares about the old series,” MJ replied, biting into her sandwich. “New Doctor Who is so much better. You get actually strong female companions and diversity, plus Russel T Davies. Not to mention color television and not black and white.”

Peter bristled. “You can’t judge it until you’ve seen it, old Doctor Who is good, I swear -”

MJ smirked and waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. The point is, Ecclestone is the best. He’s a sarcastic asshole. Love him.”

Peter ran his hand through his hair like he often did when frustrated. “But Tennant puts so much emotion into all of his acting. And you have the romance with Rose -”

“Boring,” MJ fake-yawned. 

Peter and Ned looked at MJ scandalized, and a new argument began.

After their conversation died down, MJ turned to Peter. “Hey, what did Mr. Winterhalter want from you after English class?”

Ned looked at Peter in confusion.

Peter explained the situation, avoiding the details about Spider-Man. He wasn’t quite sure why, but just the thought of even mentioning any superhero made him feel sick to the stomach.

“School newspaper? That sounds… fun,” Ned said hesitatingly. 

MJ scowled. “As long as it doesn’t get in the way of your Decathlon prep. We’re going to win again this year, you hear me? No running out this time,” she pointed her finger accusingly at Peter. He gulped and nodded quickly. MJ was terrifying.

“I’m not sure if it’s my thing,” Peter confessed. “But I don’t want to... disappoint Mr. Winterhalter.”

“Why?” MJ frowned. “Why does his opinion of you matter, at all? He’s just your English teacher.”

The question took Peter aback. “I’m not sure,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. MJ’s gaze was making him uncomfortable. “I mean, he is still my teacher? I guess I want to be a good student?” his voice squeaked, and the table broke into laughter. He felt his face grow hot, but smiled abashedly as the conversation moved on. He wasn’t fully participating, however - his mind kept going back to Mr. Winterhalter holding his article about Spider-Man. If Peter didn’t end up expressing more interest in journalism, Mr. Winterhalter might start thinking about his article in a different light and grow suspicious. Just the thought made his mouth go dry. No, he couldn’t do anything to arouse suspicion. He’d have to join the newspaper team for a bit - at least a month - to make sure that Mr. Winterhalter was off his back.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period. MJ picked up her book, which she had been reading the whole time as well as talking and eating, and gave Ned and Peter a peculiar glance. “Why I talk to you losers when I could be reading is beyond me,” she muttered and flipped Ned and Peter off as she walked out the room. He smiled - it was customary of her to do that, whether as a greeting or a goodbye or just randomly in the conversation. Peter and Ned headed out the other exit towards their gym class.

“Hey, why weren’t  _ you _ in English today?” Peter asked, suddenly recalling what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. 

Ned coughed. “Uh, dentist appointment,” he replied, but Peter could tell that it was a lie. He could always tell when Ned was lying. He considered pushing the subject, but decided against it. Ned would tell him if need be.

Suddenly, Peter felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck - his spidey sense. His blood ran cold. Something was wrong.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long pause before this update, everyone! I had much less writing time than I thought I would on my overseas trips, but they're coming to an end so soon you'll get more regular updates! I've also got many other ideas for stories that I'll be writing soon, so keep an eye out for that!

Peter’s senses were automatically dialed to 110% and he inhaled deeply, laying his hand on Ned’s shoulder as he looking around wildly. “Hey, I gotta go,” he whispered quickly, as he observed the lunchroom and came to the conclusion that nothing there was off, at least.

“Spidey sense?” Ned asked, with only a few seconds of minor hesitation and confusion.

“Spidey sense,” Peter confirmed.

Ned nodded quickly. “I’ll tell the teacher you went home sick,” he promised.

“Thanks,” Peter muttered as they exited the lunchroom and walked past the school exit. He silently doubled back, pretending to be tying his shoes as the hallway emptied. His heart hammering in his chest, he waited until everybody was gone before sprinting out the door. He hadn’t sneaked out of school for a while, not since he had promised Mr. Stark that he’d be focusing on his schoolwork, but he’s sure that Mr. Stark would understand him for doing it this time. After all, his spidey sense had gone off, which meant that somehow he, or everybody, was in big trouble.

In fact, it was strange, but the usual prickling sensation at the back of his skull hadn’t disappeared - in fact, it was growing from a prickling sensation to a full out ache. Peter hid in a nearby alley as he quickly changed into his suit, the ache only growing stronger. He threw down his backpack behind a dumpster and - _zwoop_ \- swung up the wall, landing on the roof of the nearby building. “Karen, what are we looking at?” he asked, wincing as he spoke.

“Peter, you have school right now,” Karen said sternly.

Peter groaned. Karen was great, but sometimes it was like having another Aunt May around, which wasn’t always helpful when he was trying to sneak out. “I know, Karen, b-but my spidey sense went off and there wasn’t anything at school, so it has to be something big, it has to. My spidey sense hasn’t ever gone off at school before, and it’s never been this, well, it’s never _hurt_. It’s important, Karen,” Peter’s voice broke at the end of the sentence, and though he knew Karen wouldn’t ever laugh at him, his face still turned red. “Important enough to miss a couple classes, I think,” he muttered.

“I’m scanning for signs of trouble right now, Peter,” Karen’s soothing voice helped calm some of Peter’s worries, but that only made him more aware of the growing pain at the back of his skull. He tapped his knee impatiently as he waited for her analysis, looking out of his familiar, beautiful Queens neighborhood. Finally, she spoke again, “There doesn’t seem to be anything significant happening in a nearby radius of 15,000 feet.”

Peter blinked. “That doesn’t make sense,” he retorted. “Scan bigger.”

There was another pause. And then - “There doesn’t seem to be anything significant happening in a nearby radius of 50,000 feet.”

Peter sat back. “But that doesn’t make sense,” he muttered again to himself. Then, sitting back up, he asked, “What does significant mean in this case?”

“There are usual cases of minor theft and muggings, but nothing of any unusuality or anything that should cause you to sense anything, from my understanding,” Karen said.

“But this hurts!” Peter yelped as the pain in the back of his skull got stronger. “This really hurts, Karen, and it’s not going away - this hasn’t happened before! There has to be something - maybe there was something at school? Did you check that?”

“There is no immediate danger at Midtown High School. Should I contact Happy or Tony Stark?” she asked. Peter thought he could detect a hint of worry in the AI’s voice.

“No,” Peter replied quickly. “I don’t want to bother Mr. Stark with this, it’s probably nothing, you’re right,” he said miserably as the pain refused to lessen. “I’m going to swing around, keep an eye out just in case. Maybe something will happen.” He almost wanted it to, so that he could prove to himself that he wasn’t overreacting, there was actually a problem and one he could solve. But another part of him was terrified, absolutely petrified of the unprecedented spidey-sense-attack-thing. It could spell trouble, or worse, something might be _wrong_ with him. He gulped, pushing down those feelings far away so that he didn’t have to think about them, and swung to the next roof, keeping an eye out for any suspicious looking dudes or aliens. But it was like Karen said, there didn’t seem to be any sign of trouble, despite his spidey sense, which was still going crazy.

“Hey, aren’t you Spider-Man?” an excited voice called from down on the street and Peter looked down to see an excited preteen with curly hair waving at him.

“Uh yeah,” Peter replied, lowering his voice as he called down. He winced again, a new sharp jab of pain in his head. “That’s me.”

The preteen held up his phone. “Can I take a picture and get an autograph?” he asked hopefully.

Another jab of pain. “I’m kind of busy, I’m sorry. Maybe another time?” he offered.

The preteen didn’t even blink. “Just a photo?”

Peter jumped down for the quick photoshoot, signing a quick peace-sign and grateful that nobody could see the pained look on his face as the camera went off. The bright light was too much, the headache was too much, the kid’s hands and voice and closeness was too much for his overly concentrated senses, but he gritted his teeth and bore it for the few seconds he had to before quickly jumping back up to the building, far away from everything.

“The pain’s getting worse, Karen, maybe we’re getting closer!” he said after a full hour of searching with as much excitement he could muster with a head-splitting headache and all his senses on high alert.

If Karen had a head, he imagined that she would shake it in sadness at this point. “Peter, it’s getting late. There isn’t any trouble. You need to get home before your aunt gets home.”

Peter’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. “Yeah,” he said, turning back in the general direction towards his apartment. School must’ve already ended, and Decathlon practice too, which meant MJ was probably mad at him. The last thing he needed was May to yell at him for being out and about all evening. But it frustrated him, the fact that he spent the last few hours searching and couldn’t find and get rid of whatever was causing the headache. Nothing had helped - if anything, the headache was getting steadily worse throughout the afternoon.

But once again, the little repressed corner of his brain started whispering, overwhelmed with relief that he couldn’t find the source of the trouble. He knew that it was going to be something horrible, the little corner assured him, and it very well might be something he can’t beat. Better go home to hide and just deal with a minor headache instead of going to find the thing - and get killed.

Chilled to the bone, Peter swung back home as fast as he could.

 

\---

 

Peter was sitting in bed, clutching his head. The pain was mostly gone now, replaced with a general numbness that, if anything, scared him even more.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door. “Peter, can I come in?” May’s voice floated towards him, calm and familiar. His heart warmed and felt as if it was expanding in his chest.

He gulped and responded in a rather raspy voice, “Yeah, come in.”

May opened the door, an expression of fury on her face, and Peter immediately sat up, heart hammering in fear. _Shit shit shit what did I do-_

The two of them looked at each other for a few tense, silent seconds.

May finally broke the silence. “You left. You left! You walked right out of school, halfway through the day! Unexcused absences for all your classes, and your teachers called to say you’re missing! And _why_ , may I ask, did you leave? What was so important?”

Peter felt his heart skip a beat. “I, er, felt sick. Headache,” he gestured towards his head. “Really bad. Ned was supposed to tell the teachers-”

“Don’t lie to me,” May interrupted, and Peter flinched, “If you were sick you would’ve gone to the office and reported the illness and they would’ve called me to pick you up and the absences wouldn’t have been excused. Like you’re _supposed to do_. Like you’ve done before, hundreds of times! Tell me the truth, Peter!” she yelled and he winced again. He didn’t answer - he felt like he couldn’t, his throat was so dry. Her voice lowered, but now it was shaking with rage. “Was it your, er, Spider-thing?” Her face twitched as she said the word, evidently still uncomfortable with the idea.

Peter squirmed, wanting to hide under his sheets and never come out. May had found out a little while ago about him being Spider-Man and it was still so incredibly _awkward_ to talk about. He hated it. May had seemed to go to the path to ignore it most of the time and Peter was more than happy to oblige, but whenever the topic did get brought up it was always, without a doubt, horrible.

“No,” he insisted, clutching his head as the pounding in his head returned. “No, May, I just forgot to go to the office - my head really does hurt,” he looked down, ashamed of his lie, but also because he wasn’t sure he could stand the bright light anymore.

May let out a long sigh of disappointment. She walked over to him and handed him her phone. Startled, Peter took it and looked down. The photo he had taken with the curly haired preteen gazed back at him from what looked like the kid’s Instagram page. “How-” the question died on his lips, and he dropped his head to avoid May’s gaze.

“One quick Google search, Peter. After my initial panic when I got the call that you weren’t at school, and when you wouldn’t answer your phone, I thought to look it up.” May responded. She sat down on the edge of his bed. Peter didn’t look up, too afraid to see her expression.

“One more time, please. No lying this time.”

“My spidey sense went off during lunch,” Peter began, knowing there was no getting out of this now. He dared a look up and saw May looking confused, and hastened to explain, “It’s, err, part of my… powers. I can sense things - danger - a couple seconds before it happens.”

“You were in danger during lunch?” May asked, concerned, but he shook his head.

“That’s the thing, that’s how it usually works,” Peter exclaimed, frustrated. “But there was nothing dangerous around, so I thought I’d go find what was going on so I left-”

“We’re going to have to establish some rules,” May interrupted, anger sparkling in her eyes.

“May-”

“Your safety is most important, alright? You don’t go _searching_ for danger, young man-”

“May,” Peter moaned, “I’ve got super strength. I can stop a bus with my bare hands-”

“When did you have a chance to test that theory?” May said shrilly, but Peter ignored her and kept talking.

“It’s, like, five times harder for me to get hurt than somebody else, May. It’s my duty to help people, as many as I can-”

“It’s not your duty,” May fired back, “You’re barely 16, you’re a child, and you should be prioritizing school instead of risking your neck every night.” Peter grew angry. He knew Aunt May wouldn’t understand, that’s why he hadn’t told her in the first place. Worse than anger, a flash of great pain flared up in his head again and he let out a small cry of anguish and clutched his head.

Before he could even blink, May’s hand was on his forehead. “Peter, are you alright? What’s wrong?” her voice was soft and he wrapped himself around her, tears filling his eyes. She held him, like she had always held him when he was younger, and he found comfort in her arms. “Peter?”

He cleared his throat. “May, nothing like this has ever happened before,” he admitted. “The spidey - the spidey sense is supposed to just go away after a second, but it didn’t this time. That’s why I panicked enough to leave school, I needed to find the source, it’s this huge danger but I couldn’t find it, and the sense didn’t go away, it grew and it’s this _pounding_ in my head, and I thought it was getting a little better, but it’s still there and it hurts, May,” his voice cracked again and he buried his face in her shoulder, unable to bear the embarrassment. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

May was silent for a count of ten before gently pulling away from Peter. “I’ll be right back,” she said softly. Peter watched her as she dimmed the lights in his room and left, returning quickly with a glass of water and an aspirin. She tucked him into bed as if he was eight and kissed his forehead. “Sleep,” she insisted, “it will help.”

Peter nodded, eternally grateful to his always thoughtful aunt, but knowing very well that sleep might not be the solution to whatever weird super power things were happening to him. But drowsiness was setting in, and it couldn’t hurt anyway, could it? “Thanks, Aunt May.”

May gave him a comforting smile as she stood up and made towards the door. He had already closed his eyes and began to slip into unconsciousness when he heard her whisper, “I’m calling Tony Stark.” But he wasn’t sure if he had actually heard it or imagined it, and then he was too deep asleep to care.


End file.
